


It Comes Off

by filthy_rat



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:46:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthy_rat/pseuds/filthy_rat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danse and Nora finally give in to their desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Comes Off

_I didn’t know it came off,_ thinks Nora, as she pretends to not watch Paladin Danse step out of his power armor for the night. Underneath the armor, he wears a near-skintight Vault suit, borrowed from the kind inhabitants of Vault 81. The stretchy blue material clings to every curve and swell of muscle on Danse’s sturdy frame – a fact that has not escaped Nora’s notice.

He glances her way and she hastily ducks her head, pretending to check the hydraulics of her own power armor. _Real smooth, Nora,_ she thinks with a grimace as he looks away. _What are you, a lovesick teenager?_

She chances another glance at him when she is sure his back is turned. And what a back it is. Shit, but that vault jumpsuit really looks good on him, accentuating all the right curves from his shoulders down to his… um. With silent enthusiasm, she spends a few seconds appreciating the view as he removes his helmet, fluffs his hair, and gives Dogmeat a good-natured rub or two.

Taking a deep breath, Nora slips out from behind her power armor in its station and approaches him.

“Danse?”

When he turns on his heel and faces her, when he smiles that slightly crooked smile just for her, when he looks at her expectantly – with those corner-crinkled brown eyes that remind her so strongly of a puppy – her heart skips a precious beat. It’s been so long since she’s felt this. No one since…

She knows that he isn’t Nate. And she knows he could never replace her husband. But the band on her finger suddenly feels heavier than before.

“Something wrong, Nora?”

She hesitates for just a moment, staring up into his dark brown eyes. They’ve taken their relationship far, and truth be told, she’s closer to him than anyone else. Except maybe Dogmeat.  Slowly, Nora eases the wedding band from her finger, and slips it into her pocket. Time to stop mourning. Nate was then. Danse is now.

And she loves him.

Fear suddenly gone, Nora returns his smile. She reaches out and laces his fingers with hers. She pulls him, leading him from the covered car port and towards her own shack on the outskirts of Sanctuary. Danse allows himself to be led, curiously trailing after her as she pulls him into her shack. The metal door barely clicks closed behind him before she yanks him closer by the collar of his Vault suit, taking him by surprise. Automatically, his arms enclose around her waist, folding her into his embrace. Is he blushing?

Danse clears his throat uncertainly, looking down at her in expectant confusion. Poor puppy.

She doesn’t meet his gaze, staring instead at the stubble on his chin. “I’m done trying to numb myself,” whispers Nora softly, fingertips toying nervously with his collar. “Trying to drink myself to death so I don’t… so I can’t…” The words die on her tongue, strangled by the tight constriction of her throat. Sudden tears well up in her eyes. She sniffs and wipes at them absently.

Danse’s arms tighten around her, drawing her even deeper into his embrace. She realizes that even without his armor, he’s taller than her by several inches. Nate was taller than her, too.

“I-I don’t… I’m not… very good at this,” he says quietly, his voice rumbling deep from within his chest. "Truth be told, I'm not even certain we --” But Nora cuts him off.

In a heartbeat, she lifts her head and kisses him, soft and sweet and slow. She draws it out, savoring the taste of him, feeling his warm lips fumble inexpertly against hers. The subtle saltiness of sweat, the soft burn of whiskey, the saccharine sweetness of those gum drops she sometimes catches him chewing -- the tastes all mingle into one, into _him._ Danse. She moans against his lips, a sound he mirrors as his fingertips dig gently into her hips.

Her fingers find the zipper pull on the front of his vault suit.

“Are you sure about --”

“Shut up, Danse,” Nora whispers, eyes still closed as she draws the zipper down a few inches, and slips a hand inside to feel his warm skin beneath. Always warm. Her fingers toy with the black curls dusting his chest. “Just shut up and fuck me. Please. _Please._ ” She feels pathetic for practically begging, but he relaxes nonetheless. His large, square hands settle on the small of her back.

“Nora,” breathes Danse. The sound of her name on his tongue sends a thrill up her spine.

She leans up and kisses him again, coaxing apart his lips with a swipe of her tongue. When he gives in at last and his mouth opens, she takes advantage, working her tongue against his with gentle determination that coaxes more soft groans from deep within his chest. The taste of his lips is sharper now, more concentrated, and it almost makes her head spin. She pushes his chest as they kiss, guiding him towards the bed in the corner of her one-room shack. His arms come around her waist as they shuffle awkwardly backward.

The back of his calves hit the bed frame and he sits heavily upon the mattress with a surprised grunt. Nora catches her lower lip between her teeth and watches his face as she lifts the hem of her flannel shirt and pulls it up... She tosses it to the floor and toes off her boots. She watches him swallow hard and drink her in, his gaze following the swell of her breast and hip appreciatively. He’s blushing again.

She smiles, sidling forward and straddling Danse’s lap. She leans down and kisses him again, as his hands slide around her waist. With his lips so warm and oh, so sweet, she barely notices his hands roaming down lower than her waistband until he squeezes her backside eagerly.

“Oh!” Nora exclaims in surprise, pulling back a hairsbreadth to look him in the eye.

Danse smiles that all-too-innocent smile, slightly breathless. “I think I’m better at this than I previously guessed,” he whispers.

“Apparently so,” Nora replies, and she steals another kiss as her fingers unzip the remaining few inches of his jumpsuit. Without breaking their kiss, Danse hastily yanks the sleeves off and shrugs out of the top of the jumpsuit, revealing his toned chest, dusted with dark curls. Nora’s arms wind around his neck as the kiss continues, and suddenly she is being lifted into the air. Automatically, her thighs tighten around his hips, and her ankles lock behind his back.

Danse stands, bouncing her just once to get a better grip on her thighs, before depositing her beneath him on the bed. He sits back on his heels, staring down at her freckled and toned body with a hungry eye. He reaches out, tracing the planes of her bare torso with his palm, and her breath hitches. His fingers hook in the waistband of her trousers, and with some maneuvering, he yanks them down to her ankles and off.

For the first time in a long time, Nora feels self-conscious. Lying before him in just a barely-clean bra and panties, and he still half-dressed -- it hardly feels fair.

“I... want to try something,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. _What...?_

When his mouth connects with the skin just below her navel, she sighs appreciatively. Her hand cards through his dark hair, searching for an anchor, as his mouth forges trails lower and lower across her abdomen... _Nate never did this..._ Danse drags her panties down from her hips, tossing them carelessly aside. His warm, wet mouth circles closer and closer and...

“Ohh... _oh!_ OH!” Nora cries out, arching in surprise as his tongue swipes slow and hot upwards within her slick heat. The movement of his lips and tongue, the rasp of his stubble on her inner thighs -- it’s overwhelming. Her fingers curl into tight fists in his hair, nails scraping his scalp. Danse’s eyes close, his muscular arms cradle and hold her thighs apart. He fumbles a little with his rhythm here and there, but it isn’t long before Nora is writhing.

The pleasure crests rapidly, her thighs tense around his ears, and Danse opens his eyes to watch her come undone. When he lifts his head, he wipes his glistening lips on his forearm, crawling up the length of her body until their heads are level.

“Where... did you learn that?” whispers Nora, breathless from pleasure.

Danse chuckles, dips his head, and kisses her neck and throat. “I uh... confiscated some very _informative_ holotapes a few years ago... from a Brotherhood initiate...” he mumbles sheepishly in her ear. “Took me nearly a month to get enough privacy aboard the Prydwen to listen to all of them. Proctor Quinlan walked in on me once.”

Nora can’t help it. She bursts into giggles. Danse turns his head and captures her lips in a breathtaking kiss, transforming her laughter into a moan.

Her hands wander lower as the kiss wears on, and it isn’t long before she cups his hardened bulge. He gasps in shock, withdrawing a little to look her in the eye. Nora smiles devilishly up at him, and gives his length a slow, squeezing stroke through his jumpsuit. Danse groans out her name helplessly, drops his head to her shoulder, and bucks like a bronco into her hand.

“Mm, I guess you like that, huh?” murmurs Nora, chuckling in his ear as she strokes. Danse can only moan in response, and when she delves a hand into his jumpsuit and jockeys to stroke his cock, he has to smother his groan with her neck.

_I never would’ve thought teasing him could be this fun,_ Nora thinks, kissing his shoulder as he bucks and groans atop her. She has to admit... she likes seeing him reduced to putty in her hands.

“Nora, please,” he whispers roughly, begging in her ear. “ _Please_ , I need --”

With a satisfied hum, Nora pulls his jumpsuit down to his knees, fingers grazing over the trail of dark hair above his underwear. She dips a hand beneath the elastic of his jockeys and frees his stiff cock. Danse breathes a sigh of relief against her neck, his hand moving from her waist to pull down her bra and give himself access to her perked nipple. His rough hand kneads and massages her exposed breast, thumb barely grazing the hardened peak until he has her gasping and trembling. _Shit, he’s good._

Nora isn’t quite sure just how much more teasing they both can take. At this point, Danse is grinding himself blindly against her thigh, and she’s beginning to match his level of desperation. She reaches down and takes him in hand, drawing him in until the head of his cock slips against her waiting folds.

“Nora,” he breathes her name in her ear, and she arches against him. She’ll never get tired of hearing him say her name like that.

When at last he slides home, fully seated within her, they stay still for what feels like an eternity, basking in the feel of one another. Danse dips his head to capture her lips in a fierce kiss, hooks his fingers behind her knee, and draws her thighs up around his hips. When he starts moving, building that sweet friction higher with every thrust, he watches her face like a hawk. Head thrown back against the mattress, Nora moans aloud, uncaring of the noise reverberating from the walls of her shack. Danse takes advantage, and lowers himself down to take her nipple into his mouth. She gasps in shock, arching into his mouth, fingers scrabbling against the mattress in a vain attempt to find something to hold.

All at once, the pleasure sharpens into a point, everything balanced on a white-hot edge above the yawning abyss of ecstasy, and Nora has to bite down on his shoulder to muffle her cries of bliss. Danse groans, rough and deep, slipping out of her at the last possible second and finishes all over her stomach. Nora smiles a little, lower lip between her teeth. Arms trembling, Danse lowers himself atop her, burying his face between her breasts with a contented sigh.

Nora hums, combing her fingers through his dark hair and feeling him breathe deep and slow. The words slip from her, half-sighed and entirely unplanned.

“Mm, I love you.”

For one terrifying moment, Nora is frozen solid, her blood turned to ice in her veins as she waits to hear his response. But only silence greets her confession. Danse, it seems, has fallen asleep. For once, she’s relieved to see that little stereotype about men is correct. With a quiet sigh, Nora presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and settles back onto the mattress.

Maybe later she’d consider repeating those three little words.

_Maybe._


End file.
